


And No More Shall We Part

by ItsaVikingThing



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: And What Happens to Chloe Afterwards, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Sacrifice Chloe Ending, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 18:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12393696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsaVikingThing/pseuds/ItsaVikingThing
Summary: There's a storm coming.There's only one way to stop it.Max is about to sacrifice Chloe.Chloe watches her prepare to travel through a photograph and bring everything to an end.But since when has anything gone the way Chloe expects it to?Or: what might have happened to Chloe after Max photo-jumped that last time.





	And No More Shall We Part

Chloe Price's story could have ended several different ways.

It was supposed to end on a bathroom floor, bleeding out of a bullet wound after nineteen years and a thousand bad decisions.

It almost ended a day later, with another gunshot wound. An accident this time. Still self-inflicted.

Two days after that, another gunshot to the head. First degree murder, for a change.

Maybe the most dramatic end might have been getting crushed under the wheels of a train, like a spent cigarette beneath a boot heel.

It could have ended any of those ways.

But here's how it's going to end:

Chloe's standing on a bluff overlooking Arcadia Bay beneath the shadow of a decapitated lighthouse.

Only there are no shadows because an unnamed storm is blocking out the sun.

That storm is ripping apart the town she hates. The only place she's ever lived. The only place she _knows_.

Chloe dropped out of high school. She's never had a job. She's never even left the state.

Her best and only living friend is standing ten feet away with her back to Chloe, staring at a photograph.

Max Caulfield is a slim, brown-haired, freckled nerd. Chloe's been in love with her since before she understood the concept.

Max left Arcadia Bay five years ago. She came back into Chloe's life five days ago.

She loves Chloe, too.

A minute ago, she kissed Chloe. It was the greatest kiss of Chloe's life.

There won't be another.

Max is about to kill her.

* * *

Chloe huddles under her jacket, already soaked and shivering and impatient for the end.

Technically, Chloe's story has ended already. In all of the aforementioned ways.

But Chloe has sometimes made good decisions. Like the best one ever, befriending Max Caulfield.

Aside from kissing Chloe so she can feel it in the core of her, physical and metaphysical, Max has recently developed the power to rewind time. She's used that power for a lot of things, but mostly she's used it to save Chloe's life.

Over and over again.

Exactly how this happened is a mystery to Max and Chloe both. How it works is something they've never figured out.

Chloe watches Max shiver, sway, and steady herself. Chloe wonders how many more times she'll get to exhale before Max gets the job done.

The most pressing thing about time travel is that Chloe's story _should_ have ended five days ago. Max saved her. But it would seem that saving Chloe has...broken causality.

Or some other Dr Who bullshit.

The point is that the cost of Chloe continuing to live is, according to Max, the storm that's currently killing hundreds of people in Chloe's town.

And besides Max being the only time travel expert in the vicinity, it sort of...figures. Chloe's lost count of the times she's wished Arcadia Bay would be scoured from the map.

And now her wish has been granted, and it's too much to bear.

There's some fuckers in that town who deserve a reckoning. There are many more who don't.

And really, bottom line: Chloe's life isn't worth this sort of sacrifice.

Convincing Max of that had been tough. It took everything Chloe had to do it.

But it's done.

Chloe hisses, "Come on, Max! Get it over with!"

Max, who loves her, who has travelled through time for her in all the ways a human can -- and in ways that no human ever should -- is going to change one last thing.

She'll travel through a photograph to the start of the week and let Chloe die by rich asshole and poor life choices.

Chloe is going to lose everything. She's going to save everyone.

Chloe watches Max hunch over, clinging to the photograph that can toss the killing winds back into the abyss.

And Chloe with them.

And it _sucks_.

It hurts that it has to be Max that does this. It hurts so fucking much to be left behind. Worse, to be unmade. To never have known Max's return. Her kiss. Her love.

To never know Max at eighteen: achingly beautiful and shy and sweet and smiling and yelling at her and sharing her bed and buying her breakfast and awakening dumb, pointless fucking _hope_ in Chloe and...

Chloe wishes she could kiss Max one more time.

But it's done.

This is how Chloe's story ends.

Only...it's been ten minutes since they said goodbye.

Why isn't it fucking over yet?

She walks towards Max, fighting the wind and her own shaking body.

She yells, "Max! What the fuck is happening? Is something wrong?"

Max doesn't reply.

Chloe's heart seizes when Max's fingers open. The butterfly photo flutters away into the storm.

Chloe gasps.

Max is choosing _her_.

And Chloe is so angry she could kiss her for the rest of their lives.

Because that's what this means. What it _has_ to mean.

Max wants to be with her. Forever.

Max turns to her, and Chloe's mind shuts down.

Max has a dazed expression, and a stranger's eyes. "C-Chloe? Where...where am I?"

This girl is not Max. Not Chloe's Max.

This girl sways dangerously at the cliff edge.

She doesn't look like she's going to recover.

Chloe grabs her and hauls her into the lee of the lighthouse.

Chloe screams her throat raw.

The storm rages on, drowning her out.

* * *

The only thing Max says for the next few hours is: "You're here. But...this isn't...here. Is it?"

Chloe doesn't answer her. She grabs Max's slim body and holds her close. She drags her down, and huddles over her as the storm roars and tears and lashes Arcadia Bay.

Rain pelts them. The wind shrieks it's derision. Chloe grits her teeth until her jaw aches and holds onto the body of the girl she loves.

She wonders where the rest of her has gone.

Chloe cries. She runs out of tears before the storm ends, leaving her hollow.

As the storm winds down, she fills up again, with rage and with grief.

* * *

They survive, of course, huddled together against the rain and the wind, not looking each other in the eye.

Not even trying to talk, until it's over.

When the wind fades down to a whisper, and the rain is a gentle drizzle, Chloe pushes herself upright. She staggers away from Max on cramping legs.

Max props herself against the lighthouse and watches Chloe retreat. She's shivering, but her eyes are focused now. Present.

Chloe stares at her, because it's easier than looking out over the bay and seeing what's left of Arcadia.

Not that it's easy looking at Max right now.

After a long, uneasy moment, Max says, "I...was it a photo-jump?"

Chloe's exposed skin is numb, but she feels that. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Her voice is hoarse. "Shouldn't I be asking you what the fuck went wrong?"

Max shakes her head. "I don't know..."

"Bullshit!"

"I don't know how I got here, Chloe."

Chloe turns her back on Max, and stares at what's left of Arcadia Bay.

From up here, it looks...really fucking awful.

Chloe closes her eyes. She croaks, "Max...where the fuck did you go?"

The thing about Chloe is, she isn't dumb. She hated school, but she loves science. She reads a lot. She likes math, and mechanics, and figuring shit out.

And she's had hours with nothing else to do but think.

Max's rewind...isn't always a _reversal_ of time, strictly speaking.

When she photo-jumped last night in her latest effort to save Chloe, Max explained that she had travelled back to a specific point in time. But when she got done saving Chloe's dumb ass again, she'd jump forward to a point in the future relative to when she left.

In the hours between Max telling Chloe that, and them reuniting and running from the storm, Chloe had been hanging out with...another Max. One who had been almost identical to her Max, just with slightly different memories.

It had been fairly fucking creepy, because Chloe had begun to wonder if Max really was rewinding time. Or if...

Chloe turns to face Max. She's still leaning against the lighthouse, watching Chloe and hugging herself.

Chloe says, "It's not a rewind, is it?"

Max hesitates. She looks like she's on the verge of tears. "That's just a name. A...a way to describe how I...experience my power."

Chloe bunches her hands into fists. Her nails dig grooves into her palms. "Answer the fucking question!"

Max shakes her head. "I can't." 

Chloe laughs. "Sure. Right. You...you don't rewind, you...you fucking _sidestep_. Into...into a parallel fucking universe that's less shitty. Or...closer to what you want. And you...you don't even fucking know. Or you _didn't_. Or...fuck! Fuck time travel!"

Max brushes at the corner of her eye. She's so pale, and forlorn, and Chloe wants to go to her. She wants to hold her.

But Chloe isn't the one who got given the power to cross universes. She can't go to Max. Not ever again.

"Do you think she knows? Max... _my_ Max?"

Something pained flits across Max's face. Slowly she says, "I don't understand..."

Chloe advances on her, looms over her. "She...we wanted to stop the storm. She went back to...never use her powers. Do you think she knows she fucking left me here like this?"

Max stares up at her, her eyes huge, blue, full of things that Chloe can't fathom.

Abruptly, Chloe is afraid, for all she towers over Max.

Max says, "She thinks you're dead. She's trying to learn how to grieve you."

Chloe backs away, her stomach churning. "Are...are you the one I was with last night?"

Max looks away. She says, "We can't stay here, Chloe. We need to go."

Chloe understands it, then. Max...her Max...she's gone. She's in some other universe, under clear blue skies, Arcadia Bay bustling around her. She thinks she let Chloe die. She's trying to figure out if she did the right thing.

She's never coming back. She...maybe she never did...

How many Maxes has Chloe met this week? How many Chloes have they left behind?

Chloe only realises that she's backed up almost to the edge of the cliff when Max grabs her sleeve.

Max says, "We need to leave."

Chloe yanks her arm away. "Yeah. I really fucking do."

* * *

They walk down the trail, back into town, not talking about any of the things that bristle in the air between them.

That means that they don't talk at all.

They have to climb over trees that have been blown over, find ways around the parts of the path that have been washed away. They even have to crawl under a car that creaks and groans where it hangs suspended from the limbs of shattered, twisted trees.

They're both soaked, hungry, exhausted, cold.

And Chloe thinks she could handle it, if Max was with her.

But Max is gone, and a stranger wearing her face is the only company Chloe has.

Arcadia Bay has been crumpled, torn up and scattered.

But some buildings are still upright. There have to be survivors. Chloe's mom might be one of them.

Chloe heads for the Two Whales diner first. Joyce was working when the storm hit.

Max hesitates, but she decides to trudge after Chloe.

Chloe doesn't wait for her.

* * *

It feels like a bad joke, but the first words out of Chloe's mouth when she sees the charred ruins are, "It blew up."

Max hovers just behind her, saying nothing.

Chloe stares at the wreckage in disbelief. She ate here more often than she did at home after David moved in.

She spent so much time here with Rachel.

And with Max, when they were both kids.

It's gone.

And so is Joyce.

"Mom..."

Chloe doesn't register falling, or splitting open her jeans and her left knee. She's too busy throwing up.

She's in too much distress to do anything when Max puts her hand on her back.

But when Max hunkers down beside her, and tries to hold her, Chloe shoves her away.

It's a weak shove, but it gets Max off of Chloe, and puts her on her ass.

Chloe pushes herself upright. She rounds on Max, snarling, "Fuck off! You were supposed to fix this! You were meant to save them! You...you're not even _you_."

She stares up at Chloe, wearing a bruised expression that tears Chloe up.

Chloe's throat aches. She says, "What the fuck is this? I'm supposed to die! Not them! This isn't _right_. How the fuck can this be happening?"

Max gets up, her expression hardening. She advances on Chloe, eyes full of fire. And the thing is, Max can be scary, when she gets pushed too far. This last week, Chloe has seen some of the shit that Max can be capable of.

And she has no idea what _this_ Max is capable of.

Chloe drops her arms. She figures she deserves whatever she's about to get.

Until she gets it.

Max closes in and wraps her arms around Chloe. She holds her gently. She gently tugs Chloe's head down onto her shoulder. She gently squeezes Chloe, and rubs her back.

Chloe leans into her.

New Max says, "I'm sorry, Chloe. I'm so fucking sorry."

She sounds just like the real Max.

Chloe shivers. She latches onto her. Max is gentle, but Chloe grips hard enough to bruise. She finds some comfort in Max's arms. She finds one more thing to hate herself for.

Max says, "I'm sorry. But...fuck her."

Chloe startles and pulls away. Max is staring at her. She's staring like Chloe is the only thing in the world.

"What?"

"That...other Maxine. She chose to _leave_ you. Fuck. Her."

Chloe backs away, shaking her head. "No! No, I told her to do it. I don't deserve...it wasn't supposed to be like _this_. We thought it was a rewind...we thought we could fix everything!"

Max laughs, bitterly. "She made another half-assed decision, not understanding the consequences. And it wasn't going to fix everything! You would've...she knows you're...that you've tried to...I mean, fuck! Of _course_ you deserve to live, Chloe! You're so...God, you're so fucking important!"

Chloe feels the rage bubbling back up her throat, sweeter and so much more painful than bile. "Who the fuck am I important to? There's no one left!"

Max steps closer, fierce and full of belief. She says, "There's me. And unlike _her_...I'm not leaving you, Chloe."

Chloe says, "I love _her_. I don't even know _you_."

Max closes her eyes. She shrinks down to the size of a shivering, hurting teenager.

Chloe feels a warped satisfaction at that. For about a second, before the guilt hits her.

Chloe stomps away from Max, as loudly as she can.

Because she's angry.

And because she desperately hopes that Max will follow her, even if she can't stand to look at her right now.

* * *

Chloe's house is still mostly intact. Her truck is, too.

They haven't seen another living thing so far.

Bodies, though. They've seen plenty of those.

Chloe's been surprised at how many faces she's recognised. At how many people she used to know, in spite of how lonely she always felt.

It should probably be upsetting, how easily she's accepted the necessary use of the past tense.

But Chloe has run out of capacity for new upsets. She's not exactly numb, though. She can't lose herself entirely, not when Max is trudging after her.

Not when Chloe keeps looking back to check on her.

Max is pale. Her fingers are turning blue. She doesn't complain, but her teeth do as they click against each other.

Chloe opens the door to her former home.

The living room is gone. So is most of the rear wall. There's rubble in their place, a jumble of stone, timber, and household items.

Chloe doesn't recognise all of them. She wonders which of her neighbours the unfamiliar things belonged to.

The garage is intact. The stairs to the upper floor prove to be sturdy enough, though they creak alarmingly when Chloe tests her weight on them.

Max makes to follow her, or maybe stop her, so Chloe says, "Wait here. If something goes wrong..."

Max can't get any paler, but her fear is obvious. "W-what?"

"Don't even think about fucking rewinding, Max."

Max flinches. She quickly ducks her head. Chloe stills gets a glimpse of her miserable expression.

Chloe climbs the stairs with a caution she wishes she could abandon. The upper hall is a mess. The bathroom has collapsed, and part of the far end of the hall with it.

But her room seems to have survived virtually unscathed.

Chloe empties her laundry bag and fishes her rucksack and her old school bag out of the closet.

She fills the bags with clothes and other essentials.

She takes the photograph of Rachel from the box under her bed and puts it in her wallet.

She leaves every other memento behind.

She stuffs the envelope containing $5,000 into her rucksack.

It occurs to her that her debt to Frank has been wiped clean. She saw the wreckage of his RV in the ruin of the Two Whales.

She risks walking on broken floorboards and exposed joists to grab some towels out of the linen cupboard, then carries everything downstairs.

Max is waiting for her. Chloe shoves a towel and a bag into Max's arms. "We need to get dry."

* * *

They change in the hall with their backs to each other.

Max is close to her, but Chloe feels no frisson when she hears Max's sodden clothes thud to the floor.

She tells herself that she feels no curiosity about Max's body at all.

It's an awkward five minutes, until Chloe realises that some small part of her tension is at the thought of Joyce or David finding them half-naked.

But Joyce is dead. David likely is, too.

And then it isn't awkard. It's devastating all over again. Chloe chokes back her sobs and changes as quickly as she can.

She flees to the garage before Max can offer her any comfort.

* * *

They eat from the hoard of canned goods in the garage. David has a small camping stove and a dozen bottles of gas, so they get to eat something warm at least.

Even if it is corned beef and carrots soaked in brine.

Max is wearing some of Chloe's old clothes. She looks like a toddler playing dress up. Chloe knows some of Rachel's things, which are more or less Max's size, were in one of her bags.

She doesn't want to think about what it means that Max rejected them.

She doesn't want to think at all.

But she has to.

After they've eaten, Chloe dumps the contents of her school bag onto the floor.

She says, "Load the bags and the clothes into the truck. Some of this canned shit, the camping gear, tools...anything that looks useful."

Max blinks. "Okay...?"

"I'm going to run some errands. I'll be back in a bit."

Max stares at her.

"I'm coming back, Max."

Max winces. She chews her lip. She looks like she wants to ask a dozen questions. She looks like the real Max.

But all she says is, "Okay."

* * *

Chloe walks through the ruins of Arcadia Bay alone.

Her body is tired. Her mind is too full of horror to be able to digest any of it properly.

But that will come, she knows.

She walks and tries to plan a route out of town. Arcadia Bay isn't big, but some of the roads are blocked with crashed trucks, overturned cars, and toppled buildings.

She needs gas, too.

The pumps in the nearest gas station have been flattened, though.

By the body of a whale.

So Chloe walks until she finds a hardware store with its door blown open.

She collects plastic tubing and a couple of jerry cans.

Siphoning gas isn't as easy as it looks in the movies. 

She fills her lungs with fumes and, on her first attempt, swallows some gas.

She throws up again after that.

It takes Chloe a couple of hours and several different vehicles to fill the cans.

It takes bruised fingers, and starting her knee bleeding again, and her muscles knotting themselves painfully tight under her wet and numbing skin.

Carrying the full cans back in cold and endless drizzle is worse.

Throughout the entire evening, Chloe doesn't see another living soul.

* * *

It starts to rain in earnest again. Then it starts to hail.

Chloe gets pummelled for only a few seconds before she knows that she has to find somewhere to wait it out.

Chloe seeks shelter in a liquor store a street away. She used to buy booze for her and Rachel here. Once she got her tattoos, she was rarely carded.

Chloe loads a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka into her bag. She raids the till, too, adding a couple of hundred to their cash reserves.

She pauses.

Their?

It's not like she'd ever leave Max behind, but...how the fuck is she supposed to feel about this new Max Caulfield? Chloe doesn't even know what the other Max knows. How much of the last week she might remember.

Of course, that Max might have shared a similar week with another Chloe, until she got displaced and left in this reality.

Or however the fuck it works. Maybe this Max misses her Chloe as much as...

Chloe clenches her teeth. "The fuck am I even thinking about?"

She unscrews the cap of a bottle of rum and swallows a mouthful.

It burns her throat.

She takes another pull. And another. Until her thoughts are fuzzy and less likely to break her.

* * *

It's dark by the time Chloe makes it back.

Chloe feels like shit.

She's drunk. Her body aches, inside and out. Her hands are raw from lugging the full jerry cans, she's soaked again, and her skin is chafed in a dozen places.

Her lungs feel wrong, her stomach's queasy, and her throat's a burning thorn bush.

Max is waiting for her in the doorway of Chloe's old home.

She rushes to Chloe, but stops a foot away. Her hands reach out, ready to help, but unwilling to cross into Chloe's space.

Chloe drops the cans with a grunt. "Take them," she rasps.

She pushes past Max and staggers inside.

Chloe finds a towel, fresh clothes, and a bottle of water waiting for her in the garage.

Max has found a trove of David's apocalypse supplies, evidently, because she's left Chloe a few chemical heat packs, too.

Chloe dumps her bag. She collapses into an ungainly heap on the concrete beside it. She gulps down as much water as she can manage without her stomach revolting.

She passes out about a minute later.

* * *

Chloe wakes up warm, dry, and almost comfortable.

She still feels like shit, but she's out of her wet clothes, under a blanket, tucked in with several heat packs and a pillow under her head.

Max is huddled under another blanket, sitting up. Watching her.

"Hey," she says, softly.

Chloe says, "Hey."

She grimaces. Her throat is _fucked_.

Max shuffles over to her side. She produces another bottle of water and a bunch of pills.

Chloe glances at them. "Ecstasy?"

Max smiles. "Aspirin."

"Pfft."

"Here."

Max helps Chloe lift her head. She feeds her two aspirin, and some water.

Chloe's too weak to protest.

Max eases her down again. She places her hand against Chloe's forehead.

It feels nice.

Max says, "Sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"We're leaving. Morning."

Max nods. She tentatively begins to stroke Chloe's head. "Yeah. When it's light enough. And, uh..." Max smiles again, nervously. "When you're sober?"

There's no judgement in her eyes or in her voice.

Chloe closes her eyes. "Yeah. Don't wanna get...pulled over."

Max doesn't say anything. But her hand is soft, soothing, and warm on Chloe's skin.

Chloe sleeps.

* * *

In the morning, Chloe feels like her bones are made of glass and that her muscles have been tightened one turn too many with tuning pegs.

Max is curled up under a blanket, her breath blowing warm and regular through parted lips.

Chloe gets up and gets dressed. In the process, she discovers a bandage on her left knee.

She prepares a breakfast of tinned fruit for them. She considers eating before she wakes Max.

For a second, she considers slipping outside, climbing into her truck, and leaving.

She tries to imagine what it would be like, living with that on her conscience, too.

Shame hits her hard enough to buckle her knees.

None of this is Max's fault. Maybe this Max had a perfectly great life, until Chloe fucked it over for her, and dragged her into this world.

Chloe fights back another wave of tears, and knuckles the blurriness out of her eyes.

She hunkers down beside Max and shakes her shoulder.

"Wake up. Breakfast time."

Max stirs, brushing feebly at Chloe's arm. Her eyes flutter open, and she smiles blearily up at Chloe.

Chloe's chest tightens. It's so fucking like...her.

Max rubs her eyes. "Morning. Uh. How are you feeling?"

"Better. Ready to go."

Max nods and sits up. "What's for breakfast?"

Chloe waves at the two open tins. "You have a choice! Peaches or pineapple."

Max hates pineapple.

This Max says, "Pineapple. I guess."

Chloe says, "Oh, uh. Sure."

She passes Max the opened tin and a fork.

She keeps her head down and concentrates on her peaches.

After a strained silence, Max says, "I still don't like pineapple, Chloe. But peaches are going to be easier on your throat. You sound...raspy."

Chloe's throat does hurt. She looks at Max guiltily. "Uh...there're shitloads of other tins of peaches, if you want..."

Max shakes her head. "It's fine."

It isn't. Nothing about this is fine.

Chloe says, "Did you want to...do you think we should swing by Blackwell?"

Max freezes. "I...no. I think we should get out."

"You don't think anybody else made it?"

"I don't think we're in a position to help anybody else. I don't think we should spend another day here. I don't think that would be good for either of us. You're...you could get sick."

Chloe thinks she _is_ sick. She knows she needs a real, warm bed soon. Real food. Real sleep. Medicine, maybe.

She says, "I haven't seen anyone else."

Max's shoulders hunch. "I know," she says, in a tiny voice.

Chloe gestures at Max with her fork. "You should eat. I've no idea what the road's going to be like once we're out of town. It could take a while before we hit civilisation again."

Max listlessly finishes her breakfast.

Chloe chases hers down with water and more aspirin.

Max says, "This isn't your fault, Chloe. You were willing to...this isn't on you."

Chloe shrugs. "Sure fucking feels like it, though."

* * *

The drive out of Arcadia Bay is slow and difficult. Chloe's almost grateful for how hard she has to concentrate on controlling her truck.

Max doesn't say much. Just the odd word when she spots an obstacle in their path.

Chloe's almost grateful for her silence.

They stop on the edge of town to let a herd of deer cross the road.

Chloe wonders how many miles they'll have to go before the world comes back.

Max says, "You can drop me off wherever. When we get out."

Chloe snaps her head round, shocked. "What?"

Max smiles at her, eyes heavy with unshed tears. "I'm not her. I'm not that different, probably...but...I don't even know what the differences are, Chloe. I'm not the Maxine you know. This...this isn't the _world_ I know. I know you, though. You're...Chloe. All the way through. I love you. And I don't want to leave you. But I don't want you to feel like you have to...keep me around."

She hangs her head. She whispers, "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"Then you can't fucking leave!" It bursts out of Chloe, dragging other things with it. "I need you, okay?"

Max looks away. "I don't...want you to have to _need_ me."

Chloe opens her mouth. She sucks in a breath, and closes it again. She stares ahead, out the window.

The deer are gone.

Chloe's about to drive on when Max says, "Look."

Chloe looks where she's pointing.

There's a body on the ground. Someone has placed a jacket over whoever it used to be.

Max faces her. "Someone did that after the storm. Other people survived."

Chloe nods, slowly. "I guess they did."

Max's hands twitch in her lap. "It's something. Right?"

Chloe shakes her head. "Right."

Max's hands still.

Chloe stares ahead again. Carefully she says, "Max..."

Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe sees Max wince.

Chloe sighs. "So...you don't actually like being called Max, do you?"

She shakes her head. "I...it's so petty, I didn't want to say anything. But, no. I'm Maxine. Never Max."

Chloe swallows and tries to hold herself above the swelling tide of loss.

"You...you need to tell me shit like that. Okay? That's...it's the only way that this is going to work. Right? Maxine?"

Chloe faces her. Maxine stares at her, eyes huge and frightened.

It's the kind of fear that exists at the beginning and at the end of hope.

"Listen to me. I do need you. But I also don't _want_ you to leave. I want you to stick with me, Maxine. I'd...like to get to know you. If that's okay? Please?"

Maxine makes a strangled sound and grabs Chloe's hand. She holds on tight.

They sit in silence for another minute.

Chloe says, "Okay. Let's get the fuck out of here."

Maxine lets go, but her hand lands lightly on Chloe's knee.

Chloe pats her hand. Maxine tightens her grip.

* * *

This is how their story begins:

Chloe puts the truck into gear.

They leave Arcadia Bay behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This was sort of an exorcism for an idea that wouldn't leave me alone. It was a bit rushed, so...CRITIQUE ME! Uh, please! I mean, you can always do that anyway...
> 
> I don't often engage with the time travel mechanics of LiS because, frankly, it's a headache trying to explain that stuff. I hope this one makes sense, and that the exposition isn't too excruciating. Let me know if either or both of those things isn't the case!
> 
> Thanks again, folks!
> 
> (Oh! The title is from the Nick Cave song of the same name.)
> 
> (The summary is terrible because it's all me and I'm terrible at writing summaries.)


End file.
